


rich order of walls

by eloha



Series: in bleak light of your stormy eye [4]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Casablanca References, Cock Warming, Flirting, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mentioned Donquixote Doflamingo, Mentioned Trafalgar D. Water Law, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Smoking, feel like I don't have to mention that w this pairing but yeah, like??? Kind of, only a sliver, what a trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloha/pseuds/eloha
Summary: He looks like a painting, one Botticelli or Monet thrumming to life out of a canvas, it’s terribly poetic of him, but he can’t help to admire Crocodile when he’s like this.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Dracule Mihawk, Crocodile/Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante
Series: in bleak light of your stormy eye [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914580
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	rich order of walls

**Author's Note:**

> I used tags I've never used before... look at me, Growing.
> 
> I couldn't wait to post this baby though, if you've read the fic then I hope you like how it fills in some blank spaces, and if you have not read the fic I hope this flows to your liking. This one is kinda set before CATR but it actually mirrors the Doflaw fic in a lot of ways. They're similarly connected, which I liked since they're brothers, I wanted them to sort of reflect each other. But I'll quit my rambling!! I hope you all enjoy <3

Rosinante tries not to linger- though he uses the term _tries_ very lightly, because he’s failing miserably. 

The last thing he expected whenever leaving the, fairly empty, restaurant was this beauty sitting alone at the bar. It was terribly cliché. Rosinante couldn’t even see his face, only most of his back and side profile, but what he did get a glimpse at captured his attention, and he strayed towards the bar instead of the door he was originally intending to leave out of. 

Rosinante spots his chance easy enough when the man’s silk shirt rustles, a hand delving into his pocket to pull out a thick gold lighter. The blonde pulls out a cigarette, walking briskly to grip the man’s wrist delicately before he can bring the fire up to his cigar- and holy fuck he’s beautiful. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Rosi asks the question with a husky voice, not bothering to wait for a response when he drags the lighter closer to him, hooding his eyes as he puffs on his cigarette. 

The man smiles at him, all teeth and dangerous eyes when Rosinante releases his hold. He doesn’t say anything to him, not in the few seconds it takes to light up his cigar that is. So Rosi utilizes that time to admire his beauty. The man’s all broad shoulders with a sharp jawline, wide chest that his flimsy little expensive shirt outlines wonderfully. There’s a familiar looking scar running from one side of his face to the other, and most notably a gold hook. 

Rosinante stops at that, because he knows who this man is now. He’s heard of him, not just from people he and his brother associate with, but mainly from his brother himself. Doflamingo has spoken in no subtle terms that Crocodile was never a man to be trifled with, and here Rosinante is, right in the devils' grasp. 

Something akin to fear trickles down his spine when the raven turns to him, glossy tendrils brushing across creamy skin as he side-eyes Rosinante- or more like sizes him up. The hairs on the nape of his neck stand up at the dark gaze, heavily lidded and looking at Rosinante like he’s nothing more than a speck of dust. 

“I hope, for your sake, you have a good reason interrupting me.” Crocodile doesn’t phrase it like a question. He’s unimpressed that he got interrupted in, what looked to be, his alone time. 

But damn, could Rosinante get lost in that voice. Raspy, from smoking or whatever else, and extremely sensual. The blonde takes a long drag from his cigarette, sitting on the stool next to Crocodile. 

“I was in need of company.” Rosi tells him, rather serious as if this could be a dire situation. In hindsight it is, he just _had_ to be next to the man. 

“You’d have better luck in the restaurant.” 

Rosinante hums, blowing out a cloud of smoke passed Crocodile, his lips twitch into a frown. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Rosi hums, trailing his eyes down Crocodile’s frame, “but they’re not you.” 

Rosinante, usually, wouldn’t call himself a flirt. It’s just that when he’s around someone this gorgeous he can’t help but lay the charm on thickly. His brother, on the other hand, would no doubt scold Rosi to no end if he happened to walk in on this scene, and maybe that’s why he continues sitting next to Crocodile. 

Doflamingo has been rambling on and on about some man for months anyways, and as far as Rosinante can tell, his attention will be preoccupied until Doffy actually gets the nerve to talk to said man. Which is rather amusing, but that’s not Rosinante’s focus right now. Knowing that his brother will most likely not find out about this is what makes him continue. 

“I take it you know who I am.” Crocodile puffs on his cigar, smoke trailing in a line above him. Rosinante pulls the stick out of his mouth between deft fingers, leaning closer to the raven. 

“I do, that’s why the bar is open to you.” 

Crocodile’s scoff lights Rosinante up in a way that he could never describe. It is full of disdain, utter repulsiveness like he can’t believe Rosinante would take him for some lowly fool. 

“You’re just as cocky as your brother, aren’t you?” Crocodile spits and Rosi grins cheekily. 

“Ah, so you know who _I_ am.” 

That, for some reason, makes Rosinante happy. That’s probably the one and only reason he was able to walk up to the man as easily as he could. No doubt if it was anyone else then that scary little bodyguard of his would have stopped them immediately. 

“I’d be a fool to not know who owns the place I frequent often.” 

“How very businesslike of you,” Rosinante lilts, dropping his voice an octave, “tell me, is that for a specific purpose or are you just _that_ curious.” 

Crocodile gives Rosinante a look that would wither a weaker man. He’s completely unamused with Rosinante’s shameless flirting tactics, and damn... when was the last time someone was this unaffected by him? It gives the blonde a rush, flirting with one of, if not, the most dangerous man in the entire north blue. This man could get him wiped off the map, erase his name, his heritage, and all for breathing too close to him. 

A shame, for Crocodile that is, because Doflamingo is his blood. And in Rosinante’s eyes, nobody is scarier than him when somebody messes with his family. 

“Does your brother know you’re out this late?” 

“I don’t know,” Rosinante muses quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “how about we call him and ask.” 

“You’re absolutely shameless.” Crocodile huffs, and Rosinante laughs delightfully, stubbing his cigarette in the tray. 

“And I think you’re gorgeous.” 

Crocodile raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, lips twitching into what could be a smile, but it’s hidden due to the cigar hanging out of his mouth. 

“What do you think you’re doing kid?” Crocodile asks, as curious as ever. A man with knowledge about everything, yet he acts as if he has not a clue what Rosinante wants from him. 

“I already told you-” 

“Don’t play coy,” Crocodile interrupts, retracting his cigar with his good hand to crush it in the ashtray, “if you want something from me spit it out or get out of my sight.” 

Rosinante _likes_ that sharp tongue, the crass tone of his voice. It makes something coil up in his stomach, wants to see it broken down, have Crocodile splayed out with his shoulder length hair matted, or better yet, wrapped around his hand while he tugs on it. Rosinante smirks, leaning close, a little too close, into Crocodile’s space. 

“Let me take you home.” Rosinante says it before he can even stop himself, and Crocodile looks so shocked. The first real expression he’s given him in the time he’s been next to him. 

Crocodile huffs out a laugh, entertained at best, staring at Rosinante incredulously. 

“As if I would get on your brothers bad side.” Crocodile makes a fair point. The only person who’d be able to beat the underworld leader at his own game would be Doflamingo, but like hell would he let that happen. 

“My brother has nothing to do with this.” Rosinante says lightly. 

“Do you take me for a fool?” Crocodile chides, “do you really think he won’t find out you’re sitting here at this bar talking to me, and not do anything about it.” 

Rosinante hums, standing from his chair. Crocodile is slightly taken aback by that, but he lets his gaze travel down the front of the blonde’s shirt, stopping where it opens at his chest, and then trailing those half-lidded eyes of his back up. 

“You seem to forget sweetheart,” Rosinante drawls, thumbing around with Crocodile’s hook, “that the family line doesn’t end with Doflamingo.” 

The implications of that statement hang heavy in the air, and Crocodile considers him for a moment, jet black strands brushing over his ear when he tilts his head back. Rosinante knows he might deny it, but he can spot that undercurrent in his eyes, how that lazy look is turning into something more, something terribly dangerous and one neither of them should touch. 

“Just this once.”

♠ 

Crocodile is a fucking idiot.

In the terms of stupidity, Crocodile has quite plainly reached the levels of idiocy that are borderline moronic. 

His idea of a _one-time-thing_ quickly spiraled out of control, to a place that Crocodile didn’t know whether it was his fault or Rosinante’s fault that this has continued for as long as it has. Crocodile meant to get rid of the boy, though he’s sure if he’d spoken that out loud, Daz would scoff at him. He wouldn’t say anything to counteract Crocodile’s untrue statement, but that scoff would speak volumes. 

The younger man couldn’t have been _less_ than his type. Rosinante was too tall, a little too young- just shy ten years of his own age, but not nearly naïve as someone in their mid-twenties would usually be. He could hold his own in a conversation with Crocodile, and that in and of itself should have been a hazard to him, but it seems as if for once in his life Crocodile threw all caution to the wind. 

Crocodile hates to admit, but he was instantly smitten with the man. As much of his type that he was not, he liked how he counteracted his statements. He liked that Rosinante was not as docile as other people were while speaking to him, and he knows that’s because of the family he was born into. Such nobility had to know how to hold their own and Rosinante flaunts it flawlessly. 

But right now? 

Crocodile is utterly aware of what a damn idiot he is. 

“We’ve got to stop this,” Crocodile gasps, slapping Rosinante’s back. 

The blonde grunts, raking teeth across Crocodile’s shoulder in a way that almost has him gasping embarrassingly. 

“Why’d you call me over then.” 

Fuck, why did he call him over again? Didn’t he call Rosi over to tell him that they should stop this. Yet somehow it ended up with Crocodile on his back, Rosinante pulling his legs over his shoulders, damn near bending him in half while he ate him out. 

Damnit, and it feels so good now, even better. Every moment is always like that- great and then spectacular, fucking euphoric. Rosinante balls deep inside of him, rocking so slowly, yet so meticulously, making Crocodile claw at his back. 

But shit, Doflamingo’s starting to get skeptical. That little chateau of his could only keep him so occupied until he finally asked Crocodile why he and his brother have been spending a lot of time together. Crocodile was never one to get nervous before, but he knows this is stupid, how this could end up for both of them if this continues. 

“I just-” _wanted to talk to you, be around you- have you inside of me again_. 

Shit, Crocodile’s in too deep. When the hell did he even start getting feelings for the boy. 

“ _You just_ ,” Rosi gasps, mockingly, rocking at a change of angle that has him dangerously brushing on his prostate. 

“Fuck Rosi.” Crocodile snaps his eyes shut, biting his lip to hold in the whine that almost slipped free. 

Rosinante chuckles along his ear, speeding up his rhythm and Crocodile is so close, so close to falling over the edge. Just how long has he waited for somebody to play him just as easily as he could play others, and the blonde does it so well. Rosinante can pick Crocodile apart as if he was plucking petals off a flower, his bigger body- god he’s so _big_ , so immense, towering above Crocodile even while laying down. 

Can pin him to this bed with such ease, drive his cock inside of him until Crocodile’s keening, panting harshly. He’s never made such sounds before, never been the object of slow love making. Who the hell even fucks like this when they’re not even in a relationship? Rosinante must be the devil himself, groaning so damn beautifully in his ear while he lulls Crocodile into his own bed, making him hiccup and clench with every push and pull of his cock dragging against his walls. 

“You’re going to cum already?” Rosinante asks in that raspy voice he only saves for the bedroom. 

That’s how deep Crocodile is, he’s started recognizing the difference, the fluctuations of his baritone growing from light to husky. Can depict each and every one of his moods based off his tone alone. Crocodile nods his head, throat tightening up. 

“Last time,” Crocodile gasps and Rosinante grunts, “this is the last time Rosi.” 

Rosinante speeds up, rocking Crocodile up the bed with every thrust, shoulders digging into his thighs while he brings him to climax. 

“Anything you say sweetheart.” 

And Crocodile comes apart.

♠ 

Despite what others might believe, Rosinante _does_ make rash decisions.

Doflamingo, for instance, was never one to walk that line. His brother always had to have a certain air around him considering he would be the head of family when his father decided to hand it over to him. 

Unbeknownst to them, that moment came much sooner than they expected. 

That was the one and only time Rosinante actually saw his brother slipping down a road nobody around him could have predicted, yet they all saw it coming. It was too soon, much too soon to lose one parent and then the other one following after. 

It was easy to put his needs aside to focus on his brother. Rosinante couldn’t imagine what Doflamingo was going through, not only did both of them lose their parents, but it was as if they couldn’t even let it show lest the other ‘ _family_ ’ members come in to try to take what’s theirs. 

Rosinante became focused, trying to help with the family business any which way he could, and when Doffy did get back on his feet there was something lingering in the pits of Rosinante’s stomach. It was a foreign feeling, considering he spent that last year completely and utterly focused on more important things. When he did taste that sliver of freedom again, he didn’t look back. 

It also helps that Doflamingo is obliviously falling in love, if he hadn’t been then it would be obvious what he and Crocodile were up to behind his back. Rosinante really didn’t mean for it to go on this long, to be so wrapped up in Crocodile that he doesn’t take notice of anything else, but who could really blame him? 

Rosinante’s sure nobody has ever seen the underworld leader spread out before them, so willing and so keen on pleasing someone. It was simply intoxicating. Crocodile filled up every crevice of his mind, he found him thinking about the older even while working on his statues. Marble carved and sculpted under his hand, and Rosinante swears Crocodile himself were one of them. 

The man was perfect, so perfectly docile and easy to get along with. That sharp tongue never ceased or diminished, but only grew the closer they got to each other. Rosinante couldn’t hide, or deny, that he was totally smitten with him. 

Which is why, in this moment, it was necessary to stake that claim, albeit a little risky. 

It was unprecedented Crocodile show up to the gala, decked out in Armani, looking at the other patrons like they were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Those eyes of his softened up when they landed on Rosinante though, the look going unnoticed by his brother since he was busy eyeing the man of his desire from across the room. The man, Law, who just so happened to be in his arms only a few minutes ago. 

Crocodile is so clearly riling Doflamingo up, glancing off to the side with his cigar hanging from his mouth. Predictably. He doesn’t know what the two are talking about, but Doflamingo isn’t liking it at all if his frown is anything to go by. 

“I need to get some air,” Law sighs, fanning himself. His cheeks are a pretty shade of red, courtesy of the alcohol. Rosi can’t deny the man is extremely _stunning_ , especially since he’s able to keep Doffy on his toes. 

It’s particularly thrilling watching somebody, aside from the family, get underneath Doflamingo’s skin. And Rosi can see why, he understands why his brother puts up with it. The first time they met it was under different circumstances, Law looking wonderous at statues, marveling their mother's collection and his own. So professional and put together, but here at the gala, oh Law is a sight for sore eyes. 

The surprise Rosinante had when his brother, who just walked out of the room they were occupying, came back only a few moments later with Law in tow. Neither one of them paying attention to the younger blonde while Doflamingo very nearly stripped Law of his shirt. So brazen. Rosinante found himself wondering if Crocodile would let him do such a thing when he finally got there. 

“There’s a pond out back,” the redhead points out, Kid, gesturing to the double doors that lead outside. 

“I’ll be back.” 

Law doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, not like they could, he easily picks himself up from the chair, hips swaying languidly as he walks towards the door. Rosinante continues watching, spotting his brother following soon after like a lost puppy, damn near chasing the man without a care in the world that he’s the host. Rosinante hides his smile. 

“So, you’re Doflamingo’s brother.” 

Rosinante turns around, eyeing the other man who’s talking to him. He has golden, piercing eyes, ones that were just lidded with lust while his lover spun him around on the dancefloor. 

“That I am,” Rosinante agrees, “I hear you’re the ones working on Doflamingo’s home.” 

A hum of agreements filter around the table. 

“I take it he’s treating you all well?” Rosinante asks, not wanting them to be put off by Doflamingo’s overbearing persona. 

“Oh most definitely,” Shanks responds, a twinkle in his eye, “some more than others.” 

“That’s for sure.” Kid chuckles. 

“Your brother has taken quite a liking to our construction manager,” Mihawk tells him matter-of-factly, blissfully checking him out, “I assume some thanks are in order for that.” 

Rosinante raises an eyebrow. Is he... is he _flirting_. Rosi looks towards Shanks, since he’s obviously his lover, only to see not a hint of displeasure at Mihawk’s salacious comment. The blonde swallows, laughing a bit too nervously since it was so unexpected. 

“I assume so, what would you have me do?” Rosinante asks, amused at how shameless these men are. 

They have absolutely no qualms about holding their tongue, and Rosinante’s starting to see why Doflamingo does keep them around. He assumed, at first, it was only due to Law, but every single one- even the two who are quiet- are captivating. 

“I’m afraid I’ll only accept another bottle of wine.” 

“Oh?” How miniscule, “what about everyone else here? I doubt one would be enough.” 

“That’s a shame then, isn’t it,” Mihawk sighs, an air of nonchalance around him. 

Rosinante laughs delightfully, feeling eyes on him as he stands. 

“Quite a shame, how about you follow me then.” 

Rosinante expects Shanks to stop his lover, but all the older redhead does is smirk, sitting back while Mihawk gets up without a hint of resistance. 

The blonde’s utterly aware of Crocodile’s stare being pinned on him. Is he wondering what he’s doing with another? Is he jealous? Oh, this is just too good to pass up. Rosinante’s tired of the raven trying to deny him. And though it’s slightly childish leading Mihawk away with a hand on the base of his spine, he still side-eyes Crocodile to confirm that he is, indeed, watching Rosinante with a threatening glare. 

Rosinante ignores it gleefully, guiding Mihawk to a refrigerated room that’s off to the side of the receptionist area. Mihawk waits patiently near the door, watching Rosinante with an expression he can’t quite decipher. 

“Red or white?” 

“I’ll take a red blend, please.” Mihawk’s voice is light and airy, humming when Rosinante finds an excellent blend that should be to their liking. 

Instead of reaching for the bottle when Rosinante hands it to him, Mihawk eyes him up. His gaze traveling from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head, lingering back down until he’s looking Rosinante in his eyes. 

“You’re much younger than your brother,” Mihawk observes out loud, leaning against the threshold without a care in the world. 

“Uh,” shit, why the hell does he feel so nervous now, “just a little.” 

“Did you get the kick you were looking for?” 

Rosinante tilts his head at the question. 

“What do you mean?” 

Mihawk’s hum sends a shiver down his spine, feeling put on display when the bottle is coaxed out of his hand, slender fingers brushing along his own. Mihawk looks up at him under hooded eyes, lashes thick and almost menacing surrounded by his golden irises. Rosinante’s heart rate spikes when Mihawk leans in closer, close enough that he can smell his cologne, and Mihawk’s voice is a rolling purr across his skin when he speaks. 

“You’ve been eyeing that man with the cigar all night. Is that why you chose to dance with Law when you did?” 

Rosinante’s eyes widen at being caught, opening his mouth with some form of an excuse, but then Mihawk is tutting at him, batting his eyelashes coyly, walking two fingers up his buttons. 

“How naughty. He’s been doing it too.” Mihawk whispers, his touch a little too close to his belt. Rosinante finds himself chasing after the contact when he pulls away. 

“Doing what?” Rosinante murmurs. 

“Watching you.” 

The words don’t register in Rosinante’s mind until he watches Mihawk turn on his heel, enticing scent brushing along his nostrils when black tendrils whisk in the air. Mihawk sways away, looking over his shoulder with a less than friendly wink, and Rosinante can only blink at him. Pulling the door closed with shaky hands- he tells himself it’s because of the cold, and not at all because of the way he was just strung along, the calm confession Mihawk just provided him with. 

So, Crocodile _was_ watching him. And just as intently as Rosinante has been gazing at him all evening. He tries to not feel hopeful at that. But even thinking that has him blushing and almost stumbling on the floor. 

A tight grip on his arm catches him before he falls and he jerks his head to the side, eyes wide when he sees it’s Crocodile. So stoic is his expression, cigar nowhere in sight, long hair dangerously skewed. 

“Follow me.” 

Rosinante gasps when he’s tugged, not having enough time to straighten his position as Crocodile pulls him along with more strength than he realized he had. 

Crocodile takes him to the same room Rosinante watched the scene between his brother and Law in, but unlike them, the older makes sure the room is cleared before slamming the door shut and locking it. 

And this is so plain to see. The moment is just laid bare for Rosinante, knowing this is a rash fucking decision but he doesn’t try to stop Crocodile when he pushes him against the wall, the older getting all in his space with an overwhelming aura, and displeased eyes. It excites Rosinante, seeing that exterior cracked. 

“What were you doing with him.” Crocodile demands, his hook catches in Rosinante’s shirt, and he’s almost positive it rips, but he can’t worry about that now. 

“What?” Rosinante asks coyly, looking down at Crocodile with widened, exaggerated eyes. 

“You heard me.” Crocodile seethes lowly. Rosinante is visibly walking a thin line, he just meant to tease the man, but he’s deathly serious right now. 

“Nothing.” Rosinante refrains from adding on any teasing remarks when Crocodile sighs, shoulders relaxing in relief, as if he was really worried something happened with Mihawk in that little amount of time they were together. 

Crocodile shouldn’t care, not since he’s the one that’s always planning and waiting on their last time, beckoning Rosinante into his bed and waiting until he’s damn near _drowning_ himself in Crocodile to mutter _this is the last time_. 

It makes Rosinante confused now. Crocodile’s the one saying they can’t be in a relationship, going on about how Doflamingo would react, how he would do this and try to get rid of Crocodile that way. Yet here he is, giving into Rosinante’s advances, being possessive as if he has any right when he’s been denying the blonde this entire time. 

“You shouldn’t care if we did.” Rosinante surprises himself with that, Crocodile pulling back with a shocked expression. 

“And why shouldn’t I.” 

“Don’t I have any rights?” Rosinante asks, raising an eyebrow, removing the hook that’s close to penetrating his skin, “ _this is the last time_ , _we shouldn’t be doing this_ , and here you are, trying to claim me like you have any right to do so.” 

Crocodile’s stoic expression drops for a second, only for a mere moment, but Rosinante catches it easily because _this_ is what he’s been waiting on. Been waiting to see Crocodile with his guard down, that sliver of vulnerability peeking through before his mask is set back into place. Crocodile pushes away from Rosinante, glancing off to the side, and as much as the blonde hates to admit it, he knows he lost him. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Crocodile mutters angrily. 

Rosinante doesn’t stop Crocodile when he unlocks the door and walks out, instead choosing to let go of the breath he was unknowingly holding on to. He glances up at the ceiling, watching the way the chandeliers glimmer under moonlight, and he wonders when his life got so complicated.

♠ 

Crocodile shouldn’t care.

No, he shouldn’t care that it’s been so long since he last heard from Rosinante. 

The blonde was right in his observation. Crocodile was leading him on, constantly calling him over, indulging themselves in bed, and afterwards lying next to each other and talking about nothing at all, just being content that they were wrapped up together. 

But in Crocodile’s defense, Rosinante wasn’t easy to read. 

It’s hard to assume someone likes you if they constantly agree to what you’re saying. Rosinante never tried to push Crocodile when he did say the last time was the last time, even though both of them knew it wasn’t. He had it in his mind that Rosinante was this young and carefree man, but when Crocodile caught how he was watching him that night, brown eyes burning every time he glanced over at him. 

Fuck, he was one second away from telling Doflamingo just how he felt about him, but then the blonde _had_ to go scurrying away like some lovesick teenager. 

So, because of that, and what Rosinante said at the gala, Crocodile did what he knew was best and he hid himself away. Childish, yes, but Crocodile felt like an utter fucking fool and it was such a new experience for him and not satisfying in the least. Distancing himself away from Rosinante is the best choice, even if he feels like shit. 

“Are you going to go to sleep boss?” 

Crocodile grunts at Daz, fiddling with his glass of whiskey from where he’s laying his head on the desk, some operatic tune filling up the empty office. It’s dramatic, but it’s what Crocodile needs right now, and he’s always had a flare for theatrics. 

“I’m waiting on the man,” Crocodile muses, very drunk indeed. 

It helped some, going with Doflamingo to clean up that piece of trash he calls family. It took the edge off from what he was feeling towards his brother. It was sick in a way. Doflamingo calling Crocodile up for information on his own relative that tried to get one over on his lover, and Crocodile using that excuse to ask about his brother. _Rosi is just as peachy as fucking ever_ , Doflamingo seethed. He was clearly jealous, and so was Crocodile. 

Petty as it was, he hoped Rosinante would be just as miserable as he felt, and when he found out he wasn’t, Crocodile took it out on the prick that drove Law away from Doflamingo. And where did that lead Crocodile? Drinking late at night, swearing that he can still feel Rosi’s lips on his skin, soft fingertips pressing in the dips of his waist, a strong grip in his hair. 

“Go to sleep boss,” Daz tries, “he’s nothing but trouble for you.” 

Fuck if he’s right. 

“He’s coming back,” Crocodile slurs quietly, “I know he’s coming back.” 

“You ever plan on going to bed then?” 

“Shut up will you.” Crocodile spits, taking his anger out on the wrong person, but Daz just grunts, unphased. 

The chair in front of him creaks, the leather worn out. Rosinante playfully said he’d buy him new ones, the stupid blonde said he’d buy Crocodile whatever he wanted, like Crocodile couldn’t get it for himself, he was just painfully attached to these damn chairs for some reason. 

“Fuck, I’m an idiot.” Crocodile grumbles, raising up to take a sip from his drink. The glass almost tumbles out of his hand but Daz is right there correcting his posture as if he asked for the help, “have you ever been in love Daz?” 

Daz, obviously, shows his surprise, eyes widening. Crocodile wants to say that he, himself, is not in love, he’s just curious if his silent and ever-present bodyguard has ever been in love. But that sounds like too much to say right now with his lips feeling as numb as they do. 

“I have.” And that’s all Daz says, nothing more and nothing less. 

Crocodile thinks that if Daz can say that without blinking even once, then maybe he could do the same thing.

♠ 

Rosinante second guesses himself, thumb hovering and heart clattering.

He’s been doing the same thing for weeks now, beating around the bush of calling Crocodile or not. 

On one hand he knows the man will answer, on the other, he knows he’ll also ignore it. It’s sort of a win win situation when Rosinante thinks about it because either he’ll get to hear Crocodile’s voice or he’ll be sent to voicemail, but at least he knows the older would have seen his call. 

It’s a desperate cry for attention when he thinks about it like that, but as things go that deal in the category of Crocodile, Rosinante will take what he can get. 

So, as much as he loathes himself for doing so, Rosinante still presses on the call button, bringing the phone up to his ear while he swings nervously on the porch. In a surprising display, the line goes through only on the second ring. 

“ _Hello_.” 

Damn he sounds like hell. 

“Hi Croccy.” Rosinante says lightly, not wanting to start the conversation off beating around the bush. That’d be the quickest way to piss Crocodile off. 

“ _I told you not to call me that_.” Crocodile grunts on the other end. 

“Yeah, well you’ve told me not to call you a lot of things that you claim you don’t like.” 

Crocodile’s hum sounds almost like a laugh, and Rosinante wouldn’t say his smile is one of victory, but it’s very close. 

“ _What are you calling me for_?” Crocodile asks, not rushing him off the phone. Another good sign. 

Rosinante takes a deep breath, eyes straying up to the sky that’s tinged red because of the sunset, porch swing ruffling his hair in the autumn breeze. 

“I’ve missed you.” Rosi admits quietly, fishing out his pack of cigarettes to light one up. 

The line goes admittedly quiet, but Rosinante knows Crocodile is still there. He’s not the type to do something childish like hang up in the middle of a conversation like this. 

“ _Is that so_.” 

Rosinante’s sure Crocodile meant to sound snide instead of hopeful, and that makes the blonde grin, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“ _I hate to say that I don’t feel the same way_.” 

Rosinante hums, “let me come see you.” 

“ _When_?” Crocodile asks terribly fast. 

“Tonight.” 

“ _That’s not-_ ” 

“Then tomorrow night.” 

Crocodile goes quiet, weighing his options, before he sighs in resignation. 

“ _Fine_.”

♠ 

Crocodile counts down the minutes, he won’t tell Rosinante that, but he’s eagerly watching the clock tick, foot rattling on the floor just as there’s a knock at his office door.

“Come-” 

“Can’t even meet me in the foyer?” Rosinante lilts, strolling in with the door wide open before carelessly slamming it shut. Crocodile narrows his eyes. 

“I was busy, if you must know.” _Busy waiting on you_ , but he keeps that thought to himself. 

Crocodile watches Rosinante in all his glory, striding up to his desk, long legs eating up the distance between them. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve last seen each other, only a couple of weeks, but the way Crocodile is looking at the blonde he knows his expression reflects that it’s felt like years. 

There are slight bags under his eyes that go against what Doflamingo told him about his brother being peachy, and he doesn’t know why that fills him with a sense of joy. Aside from the tiredness, Rosinante is just as gorgeous as ever. His presence filling up the immense space of Crocodile’s office, hands stuffed in his pocket with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“Don’t look too busy to me,” Rosinante mutters loud enough for Crocodile to hear. 

“Would you have rather me be hunched over the desk?” Crocodile asks, almost shocked when Rosinante travels around the desk instead of stopping and taking a seat in the chair. The taller stops in front of him, humming in thought while he takes the stick of tobacco out of his mouth. 

“I told him.” 

Crocodile blinks incredulously, heart clattering a mile a minute. 

“You told who, what?” Crocodile asks in this tiny voice that he’s not even sure is his. 

“I told Doflamingo.” Rosinante reiterates, sitting on his desk, all carefree is his posture, looking down at Crocodile as if gauging his reaction. 

“Why would you do that?” Crocodile raises his eyebrows, one good hand curving over the arm of his chair as he looks up at the blonde. 

“His little lover boy came back to him yesterday.” Rosinante muses, “quite a surprise, hm?” 

“I suppose so.” 

“It seems that when Doffy’s in love he doesn’t care about anybody else’s personal relationships.” 

Crocodile rolls his eyes. Of course not, that egotistical bastard. 

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.” Crocodile points out, “he’ll no doubt be sending somebody to raid one of my-” 

“On the contrary,” Rosinante interrupts, leaning back on his hands, “I told him _I_ liked you, and if I like you then Doffy wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. He may be possessive and overbearing, but he would never get in the way of my happiness.” 

Crocodile tries to remain impassive even after Rosinante gets done talking, because not only did this man take matters into his own hands, he even told Doflamingo that he liked Crocodile. Which is no easy feat. Crocodile loathed Doflamingo when the brat started making trouble in the underground with that damn incorrigible nickname. It was always ‘ _joker this_ ’ and ‘ _joker that_ ’. The aristocrat always messing with his dealings. 

It wasn’t easy, the two getting along that is. The fact that Doflamingo was able to just brush off Rosinante’s confession the way he did, and all because he’s in love with some man? It's almost too good to be true. 

“I can see you doubt me,” Rosinante chuckles, reaching a hand over to where his hook is laying on the desk, “you’re such an open book. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

Nobody would dare tell Crocodile that. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Such a shame,” Rosinante sighs, and when Crocodile blinks his eyes it’s like they’re back in that bar they met in, the one that he owns. The blonde and his cheeky smile, dishing out taunts like he was breathing, sitting here on his desk grabbing Crocodile’s hook, “I told him you treat me like royalty.” 

A gross understatement if Crocodile ever heard one. How is one supposed to treat someone who already has the world at their feet, like royalty? Crocodile could scoff at the thought. 

“You put me on too high of a pedestal.” 

Rosinante laughs gorgeously, cheeks pushing up, crinkling his eyes adorably. His forefinger traces over his hook, tilting his head the tiniest bit. 

“Not nearly enough sweetheart,” Rosinante smiles softly, “if anything you’re fit for a throne.”

♠ 

“I don’t ever think I’ve seen Doffy-”

“Shut _up_ Rosi,” Crocodile gasps, an elbow jabbing in Rosinante’s side. 

“’m sorry,” Rosi mumbles, breathlessly, smiling in the crook of Crocodile’s throat. 

“I didn’t- _fuck_ ,” Crocodile’s hook latches dangerously behind Rosinante’s neck, not nearly close enough to the carotid, but the thought of him being near the branches gives him a thrill, “I didn’t know, you knew so much _poetry_.” 

Crocodile whines loudly, head rolling back onto his shoulder, biting his lip when Rosinante digs his fingers into his thighs, holding the raven open while he bounces him on his member. The fact that he’s consumed so much wine and is still able to hold Crocodile up should be an amazing feat, but the older feels like a lightweight in Rosinante’s hands, body pliable in the blonde’s grasp. 

“It’s a talent.” Rosinante rasps, as he has many talents, such as sculpting marble, but mainly pulling Crocodile apart. That barrier slipping away with each thrust Rosinante delivers inside of him. 

Crocodile’s walls tighten up around him, gasping when Rosinante spreads his legs wider, knees digging into the bed while he drops him up and down faster. 

“Just like that,” Crocodile sighs, good hand scrambling to his abdomen, “ _so deep_ , fuck Rosi, keep going.” 

Rosinante hooks his chin over his shoulder, watching Crocodile’s cock bounce with every drive, fingers tightening on the skin of his stomach like that’s exactly where he feels Rosinante’s cock. Fuck, that’s fucking sexy. 

Balls slap against his when he picks up speed, their bodies sticky with sweat, the air smelling of sex, but goddamn does it feel good to finally be inside of Crocodile again. It’s been too long, two weeks? Three? Rosinante’s head is too fuzzy to even think, he just knows it's been ages. 

They’ve been taking it slow, so to say, ever since they started talking again. That doesn’t mean they don’t indulge in kisses, staying late over each other's house just lying in bed, cuddling and talking. Rosinante would have loved nothing more than to do the same thing tonight, would have loved being near Crocodile either way, but as soon as the door closed to the blonde’s house, he was already on him. 

It didn’t take long for both of their clothes to be stripped off, making mundane talk in between, smiling through kisses. Crocodile falling to his knees, sucking Rosi off while he prepped himself. It was almost too much, knowing Crocodile wanted Rosi the same way he wanted him, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

As soon as Crocodile popped off his dick with shiny lips and dilated eyes, wheezing out a, _pick me up and fuck me_ , with the most lethal gaze he’s seen to date, Rosinante was putty in his hands. 

“ _Oh god_ ,” Crocodile groans, wrapping his hand around his weeping cock, stroking it in time with Rosinante’s thrust, hook scraping on the blonde’s skin. 

“So vocal tonight,” Rosi murmurs in his ear, knowing the older likes that even though he tries to deny it. 

And sure enough, his hole starts fluttering around him, stroking his member faster. 

“Bastard,” Crocodile murmurs, blinking his eyes open, “I want, I want you to cum in me tonight.” 

Holy fucking _hell_. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Rosinante whimpers, already feeling his balls swelling up just because of that, “you sure?” 

“Uh huh,” Crocodile presses a kiss to his cheek and Rosi flushes more than he already was, turning his head so that they’re nose to nose. 

It feels strangely intimate. Rosinante’s legs are screaming in protest, and no doubt Crocodile’s are also, but neither one is making a move to slow down, if anything their movements become more frantic. Both men are teetering close to the edge together, gazing at the other with equally hooded eyes, sharing breaths, hearts possibly beating the same dance. 

Rosinante doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s Crocodile’s filthy request, knowing the older loathes cleaning cum out of his ass, yet he’s asking for it, looking so determined to orgasm the same time as Rosinante. All that time they spent apart, and the feelings didn’t change, it’s just soaring to new heights. 

Crocodile whines in protest when Rosinante sets him on the bed, swatting the hand away from his cock. 

“Come on sweetheart, lay down.” 

Crocodile, despite his franticness, rolls over gracefully, black tendrils spread out on his bed. He looks like a painting, one Botticelli or Monet thrumming to life out of a canvas, it’s terribly poetic of him, but he can’t help to admire Crocodile when he’s like this. 

Rosinante sighs when he covers the smaller man, eager legs wrapping around him, fingers threading in his hair when he slips back inside of Crocodile. 

“I missed you,” the raven gasps, heels digging into the base of his spine. 

Rosinante presses a kiss to his clavicle, trailing his tongue across the bone, up to his Adams apple where he nips lightly, cock sheathed by Crocodile’s tight heat, pulling a litany of moans from him because of the slow rhythm. 

“I missed you too.” 

Crocodile huffs out a laugh, burying his face in the crook of Rosinante’s shoulder. 

“You’re bit a touchy tonight,” Rosinante points out, grinding in Crocodile just the way he likes, in the way that gets him clinging and trying to hide his moans. 

“I’m about to cum.” Crocodile says, as if that’s enough incentive _why_ he’s acting like he can’t let Rosinante go. 

He doesn’t say that, the blonde actually doesn’t say anything. It’s the first time the two of them have ever been this quiet in the bedroom, nothing but their moans, whimpers, the sounds of lovers having passionate sex in a dimly lit room. God, it’s more intoxicating than the wine. Crocodile fills him up more than that sweet liquor, consuming him. 

“ _Rosi_.” 

“I got you baby.” 

Already pulling back, he can tell by that frantic tone what the other needs. 

Rosinante braces both hands next to Crocodile’s head, pulling his knees up, driving faster into him. Crocodile’s head knocks off to the side, hand slipping away from his back to curl up in the sheets just like that hook. 

“Like this?” Rosinante thrusts in faster, panting and watching Crocodile’s eyes flutter closed. 

“Do you like it like this sweetheart?” Rosinante repeats again, firmer. Loving the way the older sobs at the new pace, the change of angle, rocking Crocodile up with every shove. 

“God _yes_ , fuck don’t stop.” 

Crocodile starts clenching up around him, trembling, and Rosinante’s in awe at how quickly he’s falling apart. 

“Damn you’re so beautiful.” 

“Shut u-” 

“So pretty sweets,” Rosinante praises, edging both of them closer to their climax. 

Crocodile’s mouth drops open, and Rosinante is spurred on by that wrecked little moan, trailing a hand under his back to tug him up. Both men gasp, holding each other closer when they collide. The blonde wraps his hand in black tendrils, tugging Crocodile’s head up and away from his shoulder, gripping his waist tightly when he slots their lips together. 

Crocodile whines, shuddering as he tries to intake air and Rosinante groans into the kiss, snapping his hips up. The sharp point of Crocodile’s hook digs into his back, scratching harsh lines that Rosinante feels all the way to the tips of his toes, and his cock twitches deep inside of Crocodile. 

“Close?” Crocodile murmurs against his lips, gently rocking down. 

“Uh huh,” Rosinante gasps, trailing his fingers down Crocodile’s spine. 

Crocodile’s head rolls back, Adams apple bobbing when he swallows, tightening his legs around Rosinante’s waist. 

“ _Come on_.” There’s an urgency to Crocodile’s voice that reflects in Rosinante’s movements, his nails dig into his flesh, eyes fluttering shut as the raven bounces faster, swiveling his hips. 

“I’m about to-” 

“That’s it baby,” Crocodile gasps, grappling at blonde hair, “fill me up.” 

Rosinante’s jaw slackens, whimpering something pathetic, but never did he think he’d hear those kinds of words from Crocodile. The heat that was coiling up inside of him snaps, a guttural moan punched out of his lungs when Crocodile drops, really letting Rosinante’s cock fill him up, and fucking hell. 

It’s the best feeling in the world being encased by Crocodile’s wet heat, tight walls pulsating around his length while he comes deep inside of him. Crocodile moans filthily, nudging his hips forward, and his lips slot against the blonde’s when he cums. The kiss is nothing but both of them sucking in a lungful of air, panting harshly with a swipe of a tongue to each others bottom lip, nipping at it. 

Rosinante basks in the feeling of Crocodile’s release painting them, marking their skin in the same way, almost flinching when the older man pushes them both back and semen slips between them. Crocodile is shivering slightly on top of him, moving his hook away before any unwanted blood gets shed. 

“You feel really good inside of me,” Crocodile mumbles lazily and Rosinante groans in agony. 

“Please don’t say that while I’m still inside of you.” 

Crocodile’s laugh makes his walls clench down painfully tight on Rosinante’s oversensitive cock, and he gasps in pain, pushing up on Crocodile’s hip- who, for some reason, drops more of his weight. 

“What are you doing?” Rosinante asks incredulously, staring at Crocodile with borderline pleading eyes. 

Crocodile just smiles, the stitches on his face curling with cunning intent. He looks like he’s about to say something that’ll ruin Rosinante for anybody else, but when he truly thinks about it, Crocodile’s already done that. 

“Let me sit here.” 

Rosinante raises an eyebrow, fingers twitching on Crocodile’s hips. 

“You want to sit-” 

“On your dick,” Crocodile rolls his eyes, “yes, I do,” and then he’s leaning back down to nuzzle against Rosinante. 

_Nuzzling_ isn’t in Crocodile’s vocabulary, a little cuddling, sure. Does he like lounging around in bed after they have sex? Most definitely, and _only_ after a shower. But _nuzzling_ close to Rosinante like this, air softly puffing on his sweaty skin, forehead in the crook of his neck. This isn’t Crocodile. Especially since he doesn’t want to get cleaned up first. 

“You don’t want to get cleaned up first?” Rosinante asks. 

Crocodile shakes his head. 

“It’s been a while.” 

Rosinante doesn’t know what he means by that, so he just grunts, staring at how their shadows look against his vault ceiling. 

“Since I’ve been like this with someone, it’s been a while.” Crocodile reiterates, pressing a soft kiss on his throat. 

Rosinante knows Crocodile must hear how loud his heart is beating, it’s a loud thump even in his own ears. 

“And you’re- I mean, are you okay with that?” 

The question is pretty lame, considering if Crocodile wasn’t okay, he would make it known, but this is a different side to Crocodile that Rosinante hasn’t ever experienced, so he thinks it only fitting to react this way. 

“I just really like you.” Crocodile chuckles under his breath. 

For a second, for one quick second, time seems to stop. Rosinante’s not sure he heard Crocodile correctly, if it was just a play on the air surrounding them, or if Rosinante’s own mind conjured the words up. But he knows it’s real, as real as any moment could get, Crocodile a pillar above him, body melting against his like it always has. 

“You’re just full of surprises tonight,” Rosi muses, running his hands up Crocodile’s side and back down, lightly brushing his fingers down his waist, thighs, turning to kiss his temple, “but I really like you too old man.” 

“You really know how to ruin a moment,” Crocodile scoffs, but Rosinante can feel his lips stretching into a grin. 

“I never pegged you to be such a romantic.” 

Crocodile twists a strand of Rosinante’s hair around his finger, quiet for a minute, and in the silence Rosinante finds himself calmer than he’s ever been. Still being intimately connected to Crocodile, both of their hands touching, searching, trying to find each other's rhyme scheme. Rosinante knows it’s not love, but it’s blooming, oh the feeling of it is right there, and it fills Rosinante up with butterflies. 

“I’d be anything you want me to be.” Crocodile admits, damn near whispering, but his lips are featherlight against his ear. 

Rosinante knows that even for years to come, he’ll always remember that confession.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have been terribly excited to get this one little pairing out. Oh I had so much fun writing them. It was slightly hard though? Since they're not usually the type of characters I would write together (I'm so cliche with the small men absolutely wrecking big men *looks longingly at Kidd*), but there's a certain elegance to these two that I find refreshing. My fingers slipped a little while watching classic movies and I may have heavily based this on Humphrey Bogart movies (the beginning scene w/ how they first met, and also the part where Croc was drunk~). I'm a sucker for those old romance movies.
> 
> Also, this doesn't pertain to this one shot, but I really like the idea of sugar daddy Croc. Like he's really this badass leader of the underworld who doesn't blink an eye at violence, but he's super sweet to his blushing baby boy, spoiling and praising him, and everyone wants to tease Crocodile but they don't bc they're scared of him. Bye. Why the hell did I even type that out. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, I do hope this came out to your liking though @.@


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